“So how come no one else here needs Grounding, then? Aren’t you all Channelers?”

“Experienced Channelers learn to contain the Flame and can travel with ease. It’s the untrained who cause the problems, especially Wielders. A Wielder’s body absorbs Flame like a battery.”

“There are different kinds of Channelers?”

For an answer, he lifts his chin at the captain. “Show him, Seonu.”

With a creak of leather and a clunk of weapons, Seonu shifts forward in her seat, her shiny bob sliding across her jaw like black silk. She offers me a deadpan expression and holds out a slim hand, palm up. A spark flashes over its surface. From nowhere, a silvery-white flame appears.

My jaw drops. No way.

The inch-tall light flickers and bobs in the center of her palm like a gas flame.

I shake my head, wide eyes glancing between the light and the woman’s steely-blue gaze. The way she’s looking at me, you’d think I had horns. Or fangs. She doesn’t trust me any more than the sergeant does.

Before I can ask one of the dozen new questions now hustling for attention in my mind, Mason gently wipes his palm along the underside of Seonu’s hand, and the flame blinks out, extinguished by his touch.

Flanagan explains, “Seonu and Mason are both Channelers, but Seonu is a Wielder, and Mason is a Grounder. A Wielder’s body collects and concentrates the Flame they absorb, and they can use it in a similar way to the Anlu’kyr—Haze, stun, burn, even kill. Mason’s body grounds the Flame. He absorbs the energy but immediately diffuses it into the earth and the environment around him or into his Wielder if she needs more. This ability makes Grounders resistant to the energy’s effects.” He fixes me with a look. “This is why we need Channelers, Michael. Their ability makes them effective soldiers when facing supernatural creatures of any kind. We protect the vulnerable from the Anlu’kyr and anything else that wishes to take advantage.”

There are other kinds of supernatural creatures? My mind races through an inner Wikipedia of possibilities. Fairies? Ogres? Dragons? If vampires are real, what the hell else is out there?

Flanagan’s waiting for me to answer his implied invitation. I get the impression he’s testing me, but I blink away from his sharp gaze. As cool as it sounds, I have no desire to be somebody’s super soldier or to join an organized operation with uniforms and rules. My plan is to check out this Blackriver place, learn what I can about my parents, and once I understand how to control this crazy energy, find a way to leave.

I gesture to Flanagan’s hand resting on my thigh as though it belongs there. “So, you’re a Grounder too, I take it?”

He does a slow nod. “That’s right.”

His pale gaze hasn’t left my face. He’s still weighing me up, watching my reactions, assessing my authenticity.

“And what? The Flame energy doesn’t affect you?”

“Grounders are still at risk. They can be Hazed or overloaded. Too much Flame can cause their bodies to short-circuit. I’m a rare type of Channeler, called a True Grounder. Any amount of the Flame can pass through me. I feel it, but I’m not at risk of any side effects. A Neutral—that’s any human with no ability to Channel—is easily Hazed and can die within seconds if overloaded.”